Adam scrolled through the images on Pablo’s website, checking out the tattoos Sammy had brainstormed. Tribal, geometric, some cartoonish, a few free-flowing landscapes, and of course plenty of the startling, lifelike, 3D depictions of people and objects.
“Damn,” he whispered. It was as though she’d superimposed an actual face or item onto the human flesh. Photorealism on skin. “How did you get in with tats, though? Kind of a rough crowd… Polar opposites. A kid’s book illustrator by night, and a tattoo apprentice by day?”
“The first day of Drawing 101, I got there early, scared shitless of being in a classroom, around others. Just like before. So I killed time doodling.”
Doodles, my ass.
“Then someone whistled over my shoulder. I nearly pissed my pants. Was he checking me out, hiding in a hoodie and loose-fitting pants? Was he going to hit on me—hit me?”
Adam exhaled harshly. He detested her ever succumbing to such a cowering fright, to suffer so deeply. But she’d toughed out those fears.
“Then the guy pulled up a chair next to me. Totally stoked at this simple little design on my page. I was nothing special, really. But he insisted I show him more. He asked if I’d bring my book to show his uncle, Pablo the tattoo genius. After meeting him once, Pablo took me on, as a contracted designer and a part-time desk girl for checking his clientele in for appointments. Get paid to draw? It was a perfect set-up.”
“Sounds like a win-win.”
“Where did you get yours done?” she asked.
“All over. Some near bases, some on travels.” He shrugged. “No plan in mind.”
Her cheek rose in a smile against his pec. “The best use of a canvas. Free form.” She slapped the laptop shut and set it on the nightstand next to the side of the bed she’d taken.
To his glee, she claimed her space in the nook under his arm again, but this time, she slunk lower. Taking her cue, Adam turned off the lamp next to him, and lay down at her side. Darkness, punctuated only by the neon numerals of the motel-standard alarm clock on the dresser, filled the room. Sammy’s skin seared his own, her contact both arousing and soothing him at the same time.
He idly caressed her side, the cami likely the only barrier to prevent goosebumps on her flesh.
Mellowed from his release in the shower, he closed his eyes, coaxing himself to follow her lead and let sleep take over. If she moved any nearer, sliding her hand any further south on his chest from where her palm lay, he didn’t doubt he’d be alert and back in the next rising hill to crest on his rollercoaster of a day. But her harmonic, slow breaths lulled him into peace as he lightly feathered fingertip rubs along her side, over the trunk and branches of her tree.
Perhaps it was a truce for the night. One he gladly accepted. He could only take such much temptation.
“Good night,” she whispered.
“Sweet dreams, Sammy,” he replied.
Chapter Thirteen
Sammy surrendered to the persistent buzzes from Adam’s phone. With a groan, she leaned up on one elbow, reached over his sleeping form, and hit the snooze on the device on the nightstand next to him.
He groaned an incoherent moan of slumber and pulled her back to his chest, her pillow of the previous night.
Sighing, she cozied her cheek onto his wall of muscles, reveling in his warmth and the security she felt from his hold. She must have dozed off again, because at the next whirring sounds on the nightstand, she was jostled by Adam’s arm lifting off her and slamming the phone down to the surface, a forceful demand for silence.
“Can’t hit snooze forever,” she mumbled into his chest.
“I never want to move,” he said, his voice husky and deep with sleep and something else that beckoned her even closer.
Rolling her face to rest her chin on his chest, she peered at him, his eyes stubbornly shut. His arms snaked around her, enveloping her in a cage of his strength.
Wiggling upward, she neared his face enough to kiss the stubble covering his jaw, the friction and messy look likening him to that much more of a badass. A badass in her bed. The badass she’d fantasized about for too long.
Practically on top of him, with neither of them in enough clothes, she debated how much longer she could honestly keep him in her dream land. Suddenly, Adam was no longer an unreachable daydream, but a very tangible, and—as she slid her leg over his—very awake reality.
“Morning,” he mumbled, turning his face toward hers, eyes still closed as he sought her out. His rough, firm lips found purchase on her temple, and he inhaled deeply.
Brushing her mouth along his jaw, tickled by the friction of his new growth, she kissed him near his ear.
“Careful,” he warned, shifting to his side, coming to face her so they were side by side.
“Ticklish?” she said, worming closer for access to his jawline again.
“Hmm.” He opened his eyes then, the green sparking mischief.
She ran her tongue from his chin to just below his ear, excited by the hitch of his breath and the knee-jerk reaction of his body crushing against hers.
“Careful,” he said again, kissing her shoulder, spreading his hand on her back to bring her to him.
“Be careful what I wish for?” she said, leaving lazy kisses on his neck.
“Baby, I’ll give you anything you want. Just make sure you’re ready not to turn back.”
Too true. One could only lose her virginity once. While she was more than sure she wanted Adam to be the one to claim her innocence—her indirect innocence after her nightmare at the frat party—she couldn’t be positive she could see it happening now. In the morning. Right before they got in her Honda and spent the next eight to ten hours in stifling close quarters.
What if she was bad at it? Never having done anything before, how could she be sure she could measure up to all his expertise? She knew no tricks. She had no technique. If she was an awful lay, it would be too mortifying to stomach in the car all day.
Her inexperience reminded her of their differences. His charming ease and command of life—and women. His devil-may-care mischievous courage to take on any adventure. He was the opposite to her skittish, sheltered ways.
She was the little forgotten tagalong once again, and he was out of her league.
“Don’t doubt I want you, Sammy,” he said, likely wondering what millions of thoughts were racing through her mind. He rolled over, emphasizing the prominence of his erection against her panties. “It’s still your call, but have mercy on me.”
Sammy welcomed his kiss, parting her lips to let his tongue slide lazily next to hers before tangling in a dance that had her matching the force of his hips against hers.
As soon as she’d lost herself to the heat of their wake-up greetings, slipping her hand under the hem of his shirt, she jolted at the buzz of the phone.
With a wet smack, he released her, licking his lips and frowning. “Wanna get up yet?” He groped for his phone and shut off the alarm.
Do I?
Just then, Ink made her presence known with a teeny whimper.
“Probably for the best.” It would be inhumane for the dog, not to mention even more awkward to have sex for the first time, rushing before the animal peed on the carpet.
With a soft smile, he gave her one last smooch to her cheek. “Do you have a lot to do before we hit the road?”
“It’d be nice to get a little exercise in.” She climbed off him and stood on her side of the bed.
He nodded, rising as well. “I’ll take her with me,” he said, gesturing to Ink. “A short run should be enough to take care of this before it becomes a bigger problem.” Adjusting his crotch, he grimaced.
“Too early for a cold shower?”
He shook his head, a dare in his gaze. “Around you?” He snorted a laugh and left with his shoes and an impatient Ink.
****
Mountains and deserts had long since given way to horizontal landscapes of farms and the occasional larger cities. Sammy knew they w
ere more than half way across the grand old U.S. of A., but the progress of the trip disheartened her more than it encouraged her.
On one hand, she was nearer to Edgar, and she would resolve the matter of her trust fund—for better or worse—once and for all. She wouldn’t lie awake at night, worrying and stressing about it and whether she would be able to assist Clare. The accumulating anticipation of facing her grandfather and even being within the city limits of Concord gnawed at her nerves.
On the other hand, she was that much closer to saying good bye to Adam. Again.
When he’d left for boot camp, she had no control over his departure. She was just a sister of a friend. A face he recognized. Now… She had to allow herself the confidence to know she was more. His gentlemanly patience and his blunt, honest expression of desire for her surely attributed to something more than just friends.
Eyeing him as he drove, she felt torn at the scant time she was set to share with him, and little prospects of seeing him again in the future.
Particularly if he took that offer in Kuwait he’d mentioned and refused to elaborate on. His reluctance to discuss it spoke volumes. When he’d decided to enlist after graduation, he’d shared info with her and Jake, updated them of upcoming dates and the location of where he’d go to boot camp. Not quite excitement, but surety in his choice. Now, she detected dread.
No grand destination. No settling down. His indecisiveness of his own future wasn’t a factor for her to condemn or judge, but she did consider it. Whatever she did with Adam, before she deposited him in Vermont, it would be a once-in-a-lifetime occasion. Like before, when he left for the Army, it destroyed her, but she had no claim to protest his decision. It was his life. His option to go. Same as now, she refused to balk at him flying out again, because as much she insisted on her right to make her own way in life how she saw fit, she could hardly attempt to control him.
Clinging to him wasn’t the issue. She actually appreciated he was willing to share himself with her for such a brief time. With her struggles of connecting with people and not trusting the opposite sex, it was perfect.
Only catch was … she had to take the leap if she wanted more.
He was tapping at the navigation screen on the dashboard as he drove, giving her the chance to sketch a few tattoo ideas to email to Pablo. The depictions weren’t showing on the pages, though, as strokes and shades from her pencil. Her imagination created naughty, erotic slideshows of how she’d rather spend time with Adam.
“We’ll definitely get past Chicago today. Hopefully without much traffic,” he said.
“Uh-huh.”
Could I sound any hornier? Chagrined, she lowered her gaze to the blank white sheets of her sketchbook. Bothered, on too many foreign levels she’d let go dormant for too long, she smacked the cover of the book closed.
“You okay?” he asked, and glanced at her.
Vast space surrounded them, black crows on telephone lines and watching hawks waiting on abandoned fence posts their only company. Cars passed in the next lane every now and then, but at the sleepy time of the afternoon, traffic was minimal.
Alone, in the car with Adam, Sammy felt safe in a bubble. Private. With his hands on the wheel, obligated to steer the car, he was too preoccupied to make any demands on her, not that he seemed likely to force expectations of any kind on her.
She was in control of sorts. With the concept of being in charge of a guy, of Adam especially, she was emboldened to take a risk.
“Sammy? You okay?”
“Uh…” She surveyed the scenery around the car again. “No. Actually, I’m not.”
A frown clouded his face and he turned his head toward her in a series of side looks.
Determined to take her own desire, her own fate in her hands, she made up her mind to explore and experience the safe dangers of lust. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she stared at Adam as she let her sketchbook drop to the floor, crawling onto the middle console between them.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, still volleying his attention between the road and her approach.
“I’m … curious,” she said before she kissed him. Starting at his cheek, cradling his jaw in her hand, she closed her eyes and reveled in his scent, in his firm, chiseled features, leaving light kisses on the side of his face available to her.
“O-kay,” he said, raising his arm to welcome her closer. “I can snuggle and drive.”
Snuggle was a bit too mild for her mood at the moment.
Taking care to linger at the taut skin of his neck, she licked and kissed him, feeling the grinding tension in his jaw as he gritted his teeth.
“Want me to pull over?” he asked, a pant between a couple words. He snagged a moment to meet her lips in half of a kiss, his attention still forward as he operated the car.
“Don’t,” she said. Inching closer, she snuck her hand under his shirt, teasing her tongue at the corner of his lips.
His throat tightened in a swallow and she felt a surge of power, of confidence, of feminine, rah-rah sexiness at his reaction to her.
She was making him gasp, grip the steering wheel with white knuckles. She did this to him.
“Baby…” His whisper bordered on begging.
Trailing her hand from the muscles on his chest, she aimed for his waist, popping the button to his shorts and unzipping them. He leaned his butt up to accommodate her impromptu undressing, his foot hitting the gas pedal and zooming the car at an unplanned upon jolt of speed. Settling back down to sit, he breathed faster.
Grinning, she dared to lean farther over him, kissing his fully on the lips, blocking his view for a second.
Gripping his dick, she explored, wrapping her fingers around the shaft, caressing the veins, the smooth tip, the dip below the head.
“Fuck, Sammy. You’re evil,” he said as she played.
Stroking him, she continued to kiss and lick at his neck. With a groan, he let his head fall back to the headrest. “I— Wait ’til I pull over.”
“No. Don’t, please.” She lowered herself, pausing midway to glance up at him. “Can I…”
“Fuck. Sammy, you don’t have to.”
Precisely. She wanted to. And it was a deliciously empowering desire.
“Right now? Here?”
She closed the gap between her mouth and his cock, acclimating herself to him, first with her closed lips, brushing and kissing him, and then opening to stroke with her tongue. It felt so right, so perfect to do this for the first time with—to—Adam.
His groans encouraged her to continue, unaware if she were doing it correctly, too fast or too slow. Selfishly, this was more for her own pleasure, embracing her own naughty dare and hoping to please him somehow. Learning and exploring an act she’d always been curious about, but feared initiating.
Closing her lips on him, she began to move her head, marveling at the smooth softness and rigid hardness. With her hand and mouth, she tried to take as much of him as she could.
“Sammy.”
Adam’s groans and shaking knees gave her some indication of her newfound prowess.
“Babe… Sammy. Stop.”
Shit. She’d done something wrong. Rising with a pop of him exiting her mouth, she sat up, concerned, embarrassed at the assumption she’d been rocking his world with some unexpected road head. In a blur, he reached to the backseat, grabbed Ink’s blankie, and covered himself, moaning in a low rumble.
“Fuck.” He left the blankie over him, his last-resort catch for his cum.
She would have… Well, she had been willing to try to swallow. Unable to look away, she watched the tension evaporate from his face as he came, a relieved groan finishing his release.
Satisfied, despite her racing heart, Sammy sat back in her seat. Smiling like the cat that caught the canary, she buckled her seatbelt and wiped her mouth. She took a sip of iced tea, washing away the reminder of the spicy and salty flavor of him.
Deliberately avoiding eye contact, she picked up her sketchbook and flipped to th
e blank page. Sighing, proud and amazed at herself for acting so wantonly for the first time ever, she began a preliminary shape with the lead tip of her pencil.
Her pulse would slow someday, she was sure.
“Hey, Sammy,” Adam said after a while. He’d wiped himself, tossed the blankie to the floor of the backseat, and zipped up.
She stilled her hand. “Yeah?”
“Allow me to say this as gently and non-cavemanish as possible.”
“What’s that?”
“Payback’s a bitch.”
The point of the pencil snapped. And I’m sure you’ll surpass all my naughtiest dreams.
Chapter Fourteen
Being the gentleman, Adam drove the first half of the day, not expecting Sammy to morph from a quiet copilot to a naughty vixen.
He’d recognized and respected she was teaching herself the art of mobile fellatio, in a way, and he’d been shocked at first, and honored she’d embraced her wild side with him.
But holy fuck. The girl had some wicked stroke of beginner’s luck, knowing exactly how to drive him insane with her mouth from the get-go. If he let himself view her impulsive action as a matter of practice making perfect, he cringed at the mere fact she’d be out of his sight in only a couple more days.
Practice for whom, then?
It was dangerous territory he wanted to avoid, preferring to keep her to himself, as irrational as that ridiculous thought could be. She lived in California. He was heading to Vermont. Maybe to Kuwait. Never mind he was tiptoeing to consider something more permanent with her. Sammy was the only woman he could ever see filling a forever role in his life. Long-distance didn’t seem wise, though.
Not to mention stupid. She’s only scratching an itch, comfortable because she knows me from before.
Right?
If he were to assume he and Sammy could earnestly have something real, would he be falling into the same trap his parents had fallen into? Two individuals secretly harboring distinct dreams, but retreating enough to lust and passion to force themselves together as a couple?
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